Monday, 25 April 2016

A couple of years ago, I wrote a post on
what it’s like growing up dark-skinned in a nation obsessed with fairness—not justice,
cos let’s face it, that we are not, but milky white skin. I got a lot of
feedback on it, because many related to the real struggle that comes with it.

There is one more thing, similar to this,
that gets talked and written about a lot, that I want to add my two cents to. Weight.

Since I was a teenager, I have battled with
weight problems. After being a really skinny kid, I suddenly gained a ton of
weight after being diagnosed with PCOD, one of the most common issues faced by
women today. I literally bloated overnight.

Since then, it has been a constant
struggle. Today, when I look at my college photos, I realise how thin I was!
But back then, I thought I was a cow.

2010 (don't miss the stunning style statement)

Late in 2014, coincidentally, soon after my
wedding, I ballooned again, the PCOD back with a vengeance. I was bloated,
missing my periods and generally in a fair bit of pain. My clothes weren’t fitting
anymore and I felt disgusted every time I looked in the mirror.

August 2014

But worse than that were people’s reactions
to this. Every other day, and I am *not* exaggerating, I would get text messages
solely to tell me I’ve put on weight. Like someone on WhatsApp would open the conversation
with, “You’ve gained weight’—not even ‘hi’. Or someone I would call to wish on
his/her birthday, and would be talking to after months, would be like ‘I saw
your pics, how did you put on so much weight?’ Or better yet, closer friends,
who didn’t care to sugar coat, would be like ‘You’re so fat.’ ‘Lose some
weight.’ ‘Why have you ballooned like this, Aunty?’

October 2014

March 2015

And every time this happened, my self-confidence
would crumble just a little more. I often wondered, what made people say those
things? Was it a sense of voyeurism, in thinking that someone looks worse
because she’s fat? Is it supposed to be funny that this person has packed on
some extra kilos, no doubt cos she’s eating everything in sight? Or is it just
cos we, as humans, love putting others down?

Once I got over myself, I started working
out, trying to eat right and taking care of my body. I became unhealthily
obsessed with my weight. I stopped wearing sleeveless clothes or anything
fitted in fear of being further shamed. My close friends started pointing out
that what I was doing and how I was thinking was not productive, but I couldn’t
stop myself.

Once I lost *some* of the weight, I started
to regain my confidence, perhaps not so much because I looked different, but because
I started feeling better in my own body. After moving here, because of a
drastic change in my lifestyle (I went from being Boi to the bai), I lost more
weight without even realising it.

Immediately I started getting, “Oh, you’ve
lost a ton of weight’ or ‘you look so much hotter in Dubai than you did in
Bombay’. Now, I won’t lie, like most women, I love hearing the three words, ‘you’ve
lost weight’. Even now, for every three people who say I've lost weight, one person will say I've put some on, and it will hurt. But every time I get the compliment, I can’t help but wonder, ‘so, I wasn’t hot
or pretty or attractive or basically good enough cos I was chubby?’ So now, if
I put on any weight back on, I’ll go back to being not-hot?’

April 2016

It’s pretty terrifying, to be perfectly
honest, and more importantly, it will be impossible for me to ever get that
bikini body I want (I’ve never worn a bikini in my life). You know why? Cos I
LOVE FOOD! I try eating healthy for two days and by the third, I’m craving
biriyani, pizza and cookies. Every time I decided to try eating clean, I tell
myself by the end of the day, ‘what if you die tomorrow? Is that salad the last
meal you would want?’

So yes, I may have lost some weight and
regained some of my confidence (thanks mostly to my love for clothes and lack of
self-control when it comes to shopping), but I still have a tummy, one which I
keep telling myself is actually just bloated and not like that for real, a
double chin, flabby arms that will.just.not.tone, and a few dimples on my
thighs that aren’t as attractive as those on one’s cheeks. I don’t work out as
often as I should, I eat way more unhealthy junk than I should and I do feel
jealous when I see friends in bikinis or with flat tummies or pronounced
jawlines, especially if they haven’t had to work for it. I am but human.

I guess the point of this post is nothing
but to urge people to be kinder. Yes, you should look after your body—lose the
weight for your health, not because of what others think of you (note to self
and my sister, just fyi), take pride in your curves (the one thing on my body I
love) and remember that when someone calls you fat, they may mean it with malice,
but more often, they don’t, and while you will obsess over it for the next few
weeks or lifetimes, they have already forgotten about it.

And the rest of you, be nice. You never
know what kind of struggle a person is going through and frankly, it’s none of
your business. Like our mammas taught us ‘if you don’t have anything nice to
say, don’t say anything at all.’

Thursday, 21 April 2016

As I have oh-so-vociferously reiterated, I am unemployed. Among many other things of crap that this brings with it, one is that I don't get to dress up on a daily basis. While I do take great care in picking out outfits, complete with accessories and the right shoes, for the weekend, on any given weekday, I'm in my home clothes (read: baggy t-shirts, tattered shorts, ill-fitted dress nighties, no bra) all day long. At best, I'll slip into my workout clothes (which are not nearly as attractive as the ones you see on Instagram) for a couple of hours and then I'm back to being a bum.

My interest in fashion, buying new clothes and putting together outfits came back only in the last six or eight months. Before that, I had put on so much weight, thanks to my PCOD, that I was physically uncomfortable in my body. I would only dress in dull, baggy clothes to cover up the bulges.

I had to work tres hard to lose *some* of the weight, but my confidence slowly started coming back as did my desire to dress well. This further piqued when I moved here (thank you, H&M), so I thought I'd share some of my weekend looks here. Now, unfortunately I don't have a photographer tailing me, so I have to make do with mirror selfies :-/ Not a pro fashion blogger, you see. But here they are anyway.

The first weekend after I moved here, we went to Abu Dhabi. This is what I wore for the night out.

I'm a Bong girl from Bombay (for the last 10 years) who has moved to the Middle East. How's that for glocal? When we moved here, I was very clear that I wanted to visit all seven Emirates before heading out to the countries surrounding us, such as Oman. In almost three months, I'm pleased to report, we've covered five out of the seven. All we have left now are Fujairah and Ras Al Khaimah--I'm most excited about the latter... beach holiday!

Here are a few snapshots of the United Arab Emirates through my eyes... well, through my phone. Let me know what you think!

Wednesday, 20 April 2016

This is a short story I had written over a year ago, hoping that I would include it in my book of short stories. I think I've changed my mind on the ever-elusive book (that's what I'm going to permanently refer to it as) so here it is, making its debut on my blog. Do let me know what you think (and apologies if there are any errors).

She lay on her side, with her back facing
him. She had been lying still for almost an hour, waiting for his breath to
normalise. When she finally heard his soft snores, she shifted her weight to
get a little comfortable. Aria always needed her space in bed. She was a
sprawler.

Just as she was dozing off, she felt his
hand on her waist. Jolted out of her slumber, she lay still again, hoping he
would back off, thinking she was asleep. A few moments passed and his hand slid
around her waist to her stomach, slowly caressing it. He slipped his hand under
her t-shirt and worked his way up to her breast. Aria lay deathly still, hoping
he would stop. But tonight it seemed like he was determined to wake her up to
fulfil his needs.

He slowly started kissing her back and
pushing her hair away to get to her neck. Aria opened her eyes to look at the
clock. 3:35am.

Slowly Anand turned Aria towards him. He
started kissing her neck, while his hands explored the rest of her body. Though
Aria could feel herself getting aroused and his hardness against her thigh, she
remained frigid. Just as he was about to kiss her lips, Anand lifted his head
to look at Aria’s face. Aria averted her eyes, turned her head away, as if to
say, “Have your way and let’s get this over with.”

Anand looked at her for a moment, his
expression darkening. Swiftly, he rolled off of her and threw off the covers. He
looked at her one last time before getting out of bed with a huff, walking
towards the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

Aria turned back on her side and lay still.
A lone tear escaped her eyes, running down her nose and wetting her pillow. It
had been three months of this misery and she had a lifetime of it ahead of her.
This is not how Aria had envisioned her life.

Anand and Aria had an arranged marriage
three months ago. They were of the same religion and the same caste—everyone
who looked at her said she was lucky to have found Anand. He was an Ivy-educated
corporate lawyer settled in Delhi, who was always on the move, globetrotting.

While finalising the wedding, Aria mom had
told her, “Beta, you should be thrilled at this proposal. You’ve always wanted
to travel. Now you can travel with him all over the world!”

“And what about my job, my career, my
friends, my life?”

“Oh ho, baby. Priorities change once you
get married. Everyone will understand.”

“Well I don’t want to get married. At least
not to him.”

“The one you wanted to marry wasn’t good
enough for you and wasn’t willing to prove himself either. So what’s the
point?”

That hit home. Aria and Dev had been seeing
each other for almost four years. She had always imagined that they would get
married someday and live happily ever after. But Dev’s un-ambitious nature had
put an end to all her dreams. At 28, Dev was a nobody. He would call himself a
creative professional, and yet could not stick to a single job for more than
three months. He lived off his parents and Aria. Sometimes, he would even take
money from their friends. His father, who ran a successful bottling plant
business, was keen on his only son taking over, but Dev wasn’t interested. Frustrated
and constantly worried, but unable to give up on Dev, his father had developed
a weak heart.

Three years into their relationship, Aria’s
folks started pressuring her to get married. Though she had never overtly
admitted to seeing Dev, they were fully aware of their relationship. Unable to
wait and ward off the incoming proposals any longer, Aria’s father one day had
a chat with her.

“Tell the boy to either buck up, get a job
and stick with it, or else take over his father’s business. As long as he is
wasting his life, he’s marrying no daughter of mine.”

The finality of her father’s words had
struck her. Although she loved Dev, she knew he was right. As opposed to Aria’s
ambitious, career-oriented and vibrant personality, Dev was irresponsible,
flippant and frankly, selfish. He did love Aria, but when she told him of her
father’s warning, Dev had barely protested.

“I’m not taking over Dad’s business just to
please your father. And if I get a job I enjoy enough, I’ll stick with it. But
there are no guarantees.”

“So you’re fine with me marrying someone
else?”

“I want you to be happy. Maybe being with
me isn’t a good idea after all.”

Aria had exploded. After years of trying to
get through to Dev and steer him towards the right path, discovering that he
didn’t care much about losing her, broke her heart. In anger, she told her
parents to go ahead and look for someone for her. And promptly, within three
months she was married off to Anand.

It’s not that Aria didn’t like Anand. He
was smart, sensitive, funny and seemed to really care about her. But she just
didn’t feel a connection with him. She had literally married him on the rebound
and now regretted it every moment of every day.

It was as early as their honeymoon that
Anand noticed Aria’s disinterest in the marriage. Every time he had tried to
touch, even just to hold her hand or put his arm around his wife’s shoulder,
she had stiffened, as if repulsed. The night before they were to fly back to
Delhi, he finally got the nerve to ask her.

“Aria, were you forced into this marriage?”

“No.”

“Do you not like me?”

Silence.

“Look, if you’re not happy then talk to me
about it. Maybe we can work a way around it.”

Silence.

Anand had sighed deeply and gone to bed.
Aria’s cold behaviour confused him, because she had seemed normal, almost
pleased during their courtship period. This drastic change in her personality,
confused, frightened and angered him, all at the same time.

Soon after returning to Delhi, Anand was
scheduled to head to Singapore for a six-month project, with Aria in tow.
Before their departure, there were many relatives to meet and they both put on
a show of being happy and in love.

One night, just days before they were to
leave, Anand had gone out drinking with his buddies. He staggered home drunk,
well after 2am. He came into their bedroom and saw Aria asleep on her side, her
back facing his side of the bed and her arms covering her eyes. Seething with
frustration and anger, yet uncontrollably attracted to her, Anand strode across
the room and climbed onto Aria.

Surprised by his sudden move, Aria tried to sit
up, but Anand pinned her arms down. He savagely started rubbing his face on her
face, her neck, her breast, biting and kissing his way down. Aria tried to push
him off, but he was far heavier and stronger than she was. Anand tore off his
shirt and undid his pants. He pushed up Aria’s nighty and pulled down her
panties to her ankle. Before she realised what was going on, he pushed his
hardness into her and started thrusting. With the combined effect of Aria’s
frigidness and Anand inebriated state, the deed was done in less than two
minutes. Satiated and tired, Anand had rolled off Aria and dozed off.

Feeling violated and humiliated, Aria had
gathered herself and rushed into the bathroom. She stripped naked and turned on
the shower, allowing the cold Delhi winter water run over her body, her tears
mixing with the jet sprays.

The next morning, Anand had a blurry memory
of the night before. The terrible hangover he had did not help things. But he
was ashamed of himself. He went to Aria and touched her gently on the shoulder,
while she was sitting blankly in front of the mirror.

“I’m sorry, Aria. I don’t know what came
over me yesterday. Please forgive me. I’ll never touch you again without your
permission.”

Aria sat still and then slowly looked at
his hand on her shoulder.

Surprised at her coldness, Anand jerked it off, and stood
for a few minutes waiting for a response. Getting none, he exhaled deeply and
walked into the bathroom.

Three months later, things were just the
same. They had moved to Singapore, were living like strangers and spoke only
when necessary.

For all practical purposes, Aria was a good
wife. She cooked for Anand, kept the house clean, washed his clothes,
entertained his guests and pretended to the outside world that they were
perfectly happy. However, this seemed to frustrate Anand even more. He was an honest
man, if not anything else, and putting up this farce, especially to his family
and Aria’s, made him physically uncomfortable.

The following week, Anand had to go on a
month-long project to Malaysia. Though initially Aria was meant to travel with
him, Anand decided that some time apart would help him clear his head. When he
told Aria this, she didn’t protest. The concept of being in Singapore on her
own for a month was rather appealing.

In the three months since their move, Aria
had already made a set of friends. She had a friend from school, Roshni, who
was living and working in Singapore, so after she went out with her a few
times, she became a part of the gang. Having worked pretty hard on her career
as a sales professional in Delhi for years, Aria was in no rush to look for a
job in Singapore. She wanted to kick back and relax for a while.

Aria’s new friends loved to party and
undoubtedly, Singapore had a super nightlife. She went to a new club every
weekend while Anand was in town, so after he left, she had no reason to stay
home every night. She would go shopping, go out for lunches and coffee with
friends and they would hit the nightspots till the wee hours every morning.

One night, about 10 days after Anand had
left for Malaysia, she went out as usual. Except that on this day, she was
feeling particularly bad about the way her life had shaped up. She missed Dev,
she felt guilty for the way she treated Anand and she regretted not looking for
a job. So like most others, she turned to alcohol. Starting to drink at lunch, by the time they entered the club for the night, she was already
pretty hammered. Robert, one of the boys in the gang, stayed close to her all
night.

Since the day they had met, Robert was
intensely attracted to Aria. He knew she was married, but he wasn’t sure how
happy she was, considering she kept going out with them sans her husband. But
he didn’t really care. He was in Singapore just for a few weeks and then would
head back to the US. But Aria was really something. Those eyes, the full lips,
the firm breasts, and the long, smooth legs... he knew he had to have her.

By about 2am that night, Aria could no
longer stand on her feet. Her head was buzzing and her legs were giving way.
Roshni wanted to take her home, but Robert insisted that she continue her night
and allow him to drop her back. Though Roshni wasn’t too comfortable with this
idea, she didn’t protest much—after all, Aria was a big girl and Robert seemed
nice.

Half an hour later, Robert and Aria were
back at her apartment. Without wasting any time, Robert grabbed her by the
waist and planted a kiss on her mouth. A little surprised at first, Aria moved
away to look at Robert. But the alcohol soon took over any semblance of logic
and before she knew it, they were tearing each other’s clothes off.

Robert carried Aria’s inebriated naked body
into the bedroom. He lay her down gently on the bed and started working his way
down Aria’s body. Aria’s senses had dulled and she was a little confused—was
this Dev or Anand? But she didn’t care; all she knew was that it felt good. For
the next hour, Robert and Aria ravaged each other’s bodies—Aria satiating
months of deprivation.

Ten days later...

Aria was sitting in front of the mirror
combing her hair. She had put on a sari, a first since the move to Singapore.
She had put on some make-up and sprayed on the perfume Anand had given her. After
a little over a month, Anand was set to return home. And for the first time
since she met him, she couldn’t wait to see him.

Aria’s memory of her night with Robert was
blurry, but what she could clearly recall was the feeling of repulsion she felt
the next morning. Seeing Robert lying next to her, with his arm around her
waist, Aria had felt nauseated. She had shaken him awake, quickly got dressed
and bid him a quick, unceremonious goodbye.

She cut Robert out of her life completely
and had stopped going out with the gang, too. Roshni would come over once in a
while to ask her what was wrong, but Aria had sworn herself to secrecy. She
felt dirty and could never forgive herself for this indiscretion.

That’s when she had decided that she would
do everything in her power to make things work with Anand. She was, after all,
married to him. She spent the next 10 days cleaning the house, downloading recipes
to cook him his favourite food, and pulling out her saris and salwar suits.

Sitting in front of the mirror the day
Anand was to arrive—moments before he would be there—Aria could not get images
of her lustful night with Robert out of her mind. Every time she’d blink, she
could see them—bodies, sweaty and entwined.

Aria snapped herself back to the present.
No, she was determined to win Anand over. She knew he liked, maybe even loved, her—he
would forgive her for sure.

Unfortunately, Anand was tougher to break
than Aria expected. For days after he returned from Malaysia, he barely spoke
to her. In fact, he stayed out of the house for as long as he could, only
coming home to crash. Sometimes, not even that. Aria cooked for him, but he
wouldn’t eat; she dressed up for him, but he wouldn’t even look at her; she
tried talking to him, but he was always too tired or not interested. She even
tried making a move in bed, but he simply stiffened and moved further away.

Two weeks later...

Aria was at her wits’ end; she didn’t know
how to make the situation better. Just when she was about to lose all hope in
her marriage, she received a text from Anand one day after he had left for
work.

“Need to talk. Will be home by 7.”

“Sure. What would you like for dinner?”

No reply.

Aria decided to cook up a storm anyway. She
called her mother in India and got the recipes for spicy vegetable pulao, kali
daal and chicken curry, just the way Anand liked it. She wasn’t feeling too
well that day but she still pushed herself to lay out an impressive spread for
her husband.

In the middle of her cooking though, Aria
felt nauseas more than once and had to rush to the bathroom to throw up. Attributing
it to stress, she kept going back to the kitchen to finish cooking. However, an
hour and a half later, when she felt dizzy and faint, she turned off the stove
and went to lie down.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a fear gripped
her stomach and shook her whole being. She checked the date on her phone. She
had missed her period. Her date had passed two weeks ago and she hadn’t even
realised it. Her little ‘mistake’ with Robert had happened about a month ago.
No, this could not be happening.

Still feeling faint, Aria gathered herself
and rushed to the medical store below her building. She quickly bought three
pregnancy kits, just to be on the safe side. She knew that she was supposed to
take the test only in the morning, but she couldn’t wait that long. No matter
what the test said now, she would take it again the next day.

Half an hour later...

Aria sat on her bathroom floor, head in her
hands. Her worst fear had come true. The little strip had turned pink. She
tried to recollect the sequence of events of that night. Did Robert use a
condom? Was he even carrying one? Try as she might, she couldn’t remember
anything about that night coherently. And no matter how much she hoped, she
knew it couldn’t be Anand’s; their last time was when he was drunk and that was
over three months ago.

This couldn’t be happening. She was trying
to repair her marriage—she was falling in love with Anand. And after days, he
said he wanted to talk. Not today, not now. This problem would have to wait.
She would deal with it tomorrow. For today, she was going to be the perfect
wife. She got up to wear the sari he had given her on their wedding day.

Three hours later...

Aria was back on the bathroom floor—this
time with the positive pregnancy test in one hand and divorce papers in the
other. Anand wanted a divorce. He had already signed the papers and just needed
her to sign them. She was then free to go back to India to her parents’. Aria
had tried to beg and plead with him to give her one more chance, but he had
remained stoic.

Aria lost track of how long she had been
sitting on that bathroom floor, sometimes clutching her stomach and at others
retching her guts out. She stared at the divorce papers for a long time. It was
just as well. She hadn’t even had to tell Anand about her infidelity. According
to him, she was guilty either way. She was a cheat; yes she was.

In the matter of a year, Aria had loved,
lost, loved again and lost again. And now she was pregnant. Aria smiled and
signed the papers, before retching into the toilet bowl one more time.

Tuesday, 19 April 2016

So, it's been about two and a half months since I moved, bag and baggage, to the United Arab Emirates. Now, when most people move to this country, they say "We are moving to Dubai." If you're wondering why I'm not saying the same thing, well, it's because we have *not* moved to Dubai. We have moved to a northern emirate called Ajman. Yeah, I had to look it up when my husband first got the offer, too.

Many pros and cons were discussed and debated, friends were consulted and goals were shared... after which we finally made the decision: if not now, then when. There's no better time to move to a new country than when you're a DINK (double income, no kids). So husband moved and I started wrapping up our lives in Bombay--a joint life very carefully and lovingly built, one I wanted to get away from for a while now, and yet when it became a reality, everything was going dark. Anyway, maybe I should save the perils of packing for another post.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, two months after husband moved, I followed him--no job in hand, just dreams of chilling for a while, becoming a domestic goddess and finding a fancy-pants job within two months. I imagined myself cooking fancy meals, working out like a beast and soon, within two months tops, landing an awesome job to which I would be wearing sexy pencil skirts, sky-high heels and, soon, driving confidently in a cool new ride. I mean, I'm qualified, good at what I do and even came bearing recommendations, meetings already scheduled. What could possibly come in my way? Life, apparently. How soon all my dreams came crashing down.

Don't get me wrong, so far, it's been a great ride--we're lucky we (read: I) have a bunch of friends here, so every weekend has been a party. If you're moving to a new country, I highly recommend choosing one where you know people... but that's pretty obvious.

While I did initially enjoy the chilling, the cooking, the setting up of the new home, the not having to be responsible etc., after about all of two weeks, I slowly but surely started losing my mind. Yes, patience is indeed my middle name. Baishali Patience Chatterjee.

I remember when I went to say goodbye to my editor at Femina, Tanya, and joked about wanting to become a housewife... sorry, homemaker... she rapped me on the knuckles and told me I was made for bigger things. I just threw my head back and laughed, telling her, "But I love to cook!" Little did I know that she clearly knew me better than I knew myself.

It has, as mentioned earlier, been over two months since I started job hunting in this foreign country, and it has been frustratingly slow, to put it mildly. Yes, I've met a bunch of people, sent out more emails that I have in my entire life, collectively, and generally lost my mind. No biggie.

If anyone ever tells you that moving to a new country is all fun, games and glamour, do not buy it. It *is* great, don't get me wrong. But there is a legit struggle that comes with it. A daily one.

After spending days hiding in bed, wallowing in self-pity, watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. over and over and over (yeah. I'm one of those) again, I finally decided to do something with my time. So, at the insistence of many friends, I've restarted this blog, decided to up my social media game (whatever that means), work on that ever-elusive book I've been trying to write for like a gajillion years and *dum dum dum* signed up at a health club here and started swimming lessons!

It's the last thing that I'm most excited about. I've always loved and feared the water in equal parts, and have always wanted to learn how to swim. One class down, I can already float and glide across the width of the pool *pat pat*. I also attended one of the aerobics classes hosted by the club and basically died. Smoker's stamina and all.

Anyhoo, like I promised, I will continue to share experience from this life-altering move, as well as other things I observe and discover. Expect to see food posts, fashion posts, fitness maybe, weekend scenes, more job-hunt frustration and, hopefully, a lot more.

To see how I'm upping my social media game, follow me on Instagram (baishalic) and Twitter (Chat_Boi) *insert self-promotion*

Thursday, 14 April 2016

Two years and eight months. Yeeshk! Been that long since I last posted. Well, at least I lived up to my blog's name *hyuk hyuk*

Most of you know (cos, let's face it, all my readers are my friends and family), my life has changed drastically since I last posted. Isn't ironic that my last post here was titled "My break from people"? Anyway, I am now married, yes to the man I used to whine most about on the blog, have moved out of the country and am currently (*dum dum dum*) unemployed. So many things I wasn't back then.

Many, many people have been telling me to get back to my blog, so this is my attempt at just that... at 1am. Very productive.

I hereby vow to (try to) share my new experiences, deets about the new people I meet, the places I go, the new insecurities that encompass me now, and find new things to whine about :D I've also simplified the template cos I feel more grown-up now, I think.

Till I write again, here's a photo of the sun rising in the desert... apt, no?